Her face scrunches in confusion. It makes me laugh, a small chuckle rumbling from low in my chest.
“The most beautiful piece of art I’ve ever seen? Yeah, I remember it.”
My teeth run over my bottom lip because she’s feeding my ego, and I love it. “The artist who didn’t know if they wanted to sell it? That’s me.”
“Shut up!”
“No one knows it’s me.”
“Oh my god, I gave you compliments without even knowing it.”
“You gave me so many compliments,” I tease, popping another bite of scone into my mouth. It’s my second one. They’re just so damn good.
“I want to throw up.” She sighs dramatically, falling backward onto the quilt. “How could you let me say such nice things about you and not say anything?”
“Maybe I like it when you say nice things to me.”
She looks at me from the corner of her eye. “No you don’t.”
I shrug because I won’t confess to her what I do or don’t like. I loved watching her fawn over a piece I spent so long on. It was fun to see my art through somebody else’s eyes since I don’t allow a lot of people in on my secret. It was even more fun with the knowledge that she had no clue the artist she was complimenting was me.
“Camden,” she groans, covering her face with her hands. “You’re the actual worst for letting me make a fool of myself.”
Leaning forward, I attempt to push her hands from her face, but she keeps them locked in place. “You didn’t make a fool of yourself. I liked hearing what you thought of my work.”
She grunts, not giving any indication that she’ll move her hands. “I was telling you what I thought that artist was trying to convey when you were the artist.” Another loud groan comes from her. I try to look away from the skin she’s showing between the denim waistband of her jeans and the ruffle at her midriff. So much sun-kissed skin that’s begging for attention.
“Stop being dramatic.” My fingers wrap around her wrist. I pull again, this time a little harder. Finally, I get one of her hands to move enough to see both her eyes. “Everything you saw was exactly what I wanted the beholder to see. I’ll deny this if you ask me again, but to be honest, I was flattered you noticed all the little details I’d hidden in there.”
“I can’t believe you actually have talent. I thought all there was to you was, well…you being a dick.”
“Maybe I like it that way.”
She catches her plump bottom lip between her teeth. Without invitation, I wonder what it’d be like to catch her lip between my teeth. I imagine myself tugging on it, digging my teeth deeper until she’d moan.
Fuck. What does she sound like moaning?
She seems so untamed. I bet she doesn’t hold back in bed. I’d bite and suck before licking across the seam of her lips, hearing the sound of…
“Camden?”
I shake my head once, ridding the imagination from my mind. She looks at me expectantly, her eyes wide with confusion.
“Hm?” My brain’s still playing catch-up, trying desperately to wipe the thought of her moaning underneath me, to form anything else coherent at the moment.
“Why would you rather let everyone think there’s nothing to you other than being a dick instead of maybe letting yourself be a little more…human?”
I shrug, not wanting to have this conversation with her. Quite frankly, I don’t want to be doing anything with her. I need to get away immediately. I’m not thinking rationally. My libido has taken over, and I can’t stop imagining shutting her questions down by having my cock down her throat. “Have you ever thought that maybe I am just a dick? The fact that I don’t like to just sell art but I also like to create it doesn’t change that.”
“If you say so.” The sarcastic tone of her voice tells me she doesn’t believe me for a second. I want her to think I’m just an asshole. If people think you’re a pompous jackass, they have low expectations of you. I don’t like expectations—then I feel like I have to live up to them. The thing about other people’s expectations is that you’re never really able to live up to them. You’ll end up disappointing them, and then you feel like shit for doing so.
“Can I ask you one thing?” The words are out of my mouth before I can think better of it.
When I find her eyes again, I’m struck by how close we are. She’s now sitting up, bringing us too close together. If I leaned in slightly, I might feel her breath mingle with mine. Her scent would surround me, more than it already is. The idea of it sent my senses into overdrive from the moment we started this stupid day together.